Phases of the Moon
by drunkmarauders
Summary: AU/AH. It's 1864, Stefan is a Confederate soldier who's been ambushed. Bill Forbes finds him in his near death state and brings him to their barn. He asks his daughter Caroline to nurse him back to health. But the war and their layers of past soon catches up to them..
1. Wounded

Phrases of the Moon

The gunshots from earlier still echoed in his head. Cold sweat and dry blood on his forehead fueled the flame on the wound below his ribs. His body struggled to recuperate as he crawled through the misty forest. Stefan's riffle was drenched with mud and covered with fallen autumn leaves. His comrades were probably back to their base—miles away—all eager to celebrate victory. Yet he cried from a distant; his men cheered gleefully, none mourned for the few they lost. Only if he could, he would march back to makeshift den and have glass of whiskey. But he was unable to, he cried for help. The forest remained silent, only the creatures of the night would croak and watch him with pity in their eyes. As he crawled his way through the forest, Stefan reflected on his actions. He concluded that this was his karma. He wasn't weeping for his near death experience—no, he knew death was coming—he cried for all the men he's killed, the friends he's lost, the family he would lose if he didn't make it through the forest alive. He would be a forgotten man, a lost body, a broken soul. He concluded that when the sun rose and kissed his cheeks with rays of light, he'd be a dead man.

"Caroline! Caroline!" The piercing sound of her father's deep voice woke her from her slumber. She shifted on her bed and pulled the covers over head in attempt to return to her dreams. "Caroline! Caroline Forbes! Get down to the barn!" Caroline shot up from her bed, angry at her only family member for disturbing her dreams of Tyler.

"Father! Must I ways remind you not to wake me up? It's barely dawn, the chickens haven't even cook-o-roo-ed!" Caroline yelled from the top of her lungs in frustration. She climbed out of her bed and once again yelled through her open window. "The sun is barely rising and I was up all night sowing your blanket!" Her eyes adjusted to the morning light as she tried to find her father. "Daddy?"

"Care—go the barn and bring a basin full of water and some cloth!" Bill appeared, drenched in sweat and clothed in dirt. She eyed her father and sighed sympathetically. His body has deteriorated into a lanky figure, his once sandy blond hair has grayed, and his eyes wore years of pain. He's aged so much the past six years—since her mother's death. Bill has provided for all her needs, he became both a father and a mother to her. She loved her father dearly; they were a team, they helped heal each other.

"Yes, daddy. I'll be right down." Caroline undressed from her night gown and put on a simple cotton dress. She was no Southern Belle. Her father owned a small farm, only housing two or so of the common animals. She didn't grow up as a privileged woman with Southern money. Hell, the South wasn't full of wealth farmers! Only about the top one percent of the population was a planter aristocracy—they were the ones that owned hundreds of saves. This was why they were fighting the war in the first place. _Tyler._No, the war wasn't being fought to end slavery; it was being fought because of natural rights. And what is the price of this so-called freedom? The death of men, destroyed families, loss—all for glory. Caroline stomped as she descended from the stairs, she hated war, she hated death, she scolded herself for thinking about the situation. She promised Tyler that she wouldn't be pessimistic; she wasn't going to think about death.

Caroline grabbed the basin on the kitchen floor and filled it with the water she fetched from the well the night before. She took the liberty of mise en placing the ingredients for breakfast, eggs from Lucia—her favorite hen, ham from Mr. Piggie—who was brutally slaughtered by her father—she whimpered at the thought, oranges which she picked from their orange tree, and finally, milk from her favorite cow, _Stephan._

"Sweetheart, hurry with the water!" _What's the rush daddy?_ Caroline lifted the basin and balanced it between her arms, the cloth hung on her shoulders as she walked out of the house.

"Daddy, can you help me with the basin?" Caroline yelled in the direction of the barn; she walked slowly in fear of spilling the water.

Bill appeared from the farm house, wiping strands of hay from his trousers. "What took you so long?" Bill took the basin from her and ushered her to the barn.

"Mother gave birth to a girl, remember?"

"Oh yes, I always forget that she's one when I make her work the farm, don't I?"

"Yes, but I don't mind." Caroline filled the role of a daughter and son. She was feminine and always let her natural blond curls fall from her shoulders, yet she was brave and outspoken—always advocating her beliefs like a man in a saloon. "Why so rowdy this early in the morning? You're no cowboy and we surely don't live in the frontier."

"I found a man, a soldier." Bill spoke somberly as he gestured his daughter to open the barn's door.

"Who?" Caroline's thoughts automatically drifted to Tyler, her hands fumbled in anxiety as she twisted the door knob.

"I haven't gotten a name, he's still unconscious."

"Where did you find him?" Bill led her to the end of the barn where Stefan laid on hay and under a dirty blanket.

"I was hunting for deers." Caroline glared at her father, she hated it when he killed innocent animals. She couldn't bear to watch him kill the farm animals she's grown attached to. The farm, the woods, it was her home, the creatures that lived there were her family, her friends. Growing up miles away from down and as an only child made her befriend nature. "Oh don't give me that look. He was on the path I usually take. "

"How hurt is he?" Worry etched in the tone of her voice. Bill smirked, his daughter barely saw the man and she was already worried for his well being. That's his Caroline, always eager to lend a hand to those in need. She sprung towards him and inspected his wounds.

"Already, Care? I thought you were waiting for Tyler? " Bill teased his daughter and merely shrug at her wide eyes.

"Daddy he's hurt!"

"It's fine darling, I already extracted the bullet by his rib." Caroline sighed in relief; she drenched her cloth with water from the basin and cleaned the dirt from her patient's face. Her delicate fingers moved past his angled nose and prominent jaws to the open area of his chest. With her other hand, she brushed the fallen strands of hair from his face and laced her fingers on his sandy brown hair. As the minutes tickled and the filth was cleansed from his face, she became awed by his features. His lips were slightly parted, inviting. "…And so, I brought him here. Your sowing skills are in need though. I stopped the bleeding with rag, it's still open. Darling, I think you should start while he's still unconscious."

Caroline only caught the past part of her father's statement. "Bring my sewing kit and more wash cloths, please." The barn door shut. Caroline tore open his bloody cotton shirt and placed it with his jacket. Her eyes landed on his broad shoulder and sculpted abs. She was fazed by his masculine glory. Was it wrong? She may be bold and outgoing, but she's never seen a man this way—not even Tyler. His flat stomach screamed months of running, days of shooting and lifting from the war. He was a man, not a boy. He was solider, wounded with scars, tainted by guilt.

She was marveled, captivated.

Caroline brought the wash cloth to his chest, washing the out the traces of blood. She winced as she worked around the wound on below his left rib. Delicately, she outlined the tiny scattered scars on his toned arms and shoulders.

"I brought your sewing kit, darling. Apologizes for taking so long, I wasn't able to find it." Caroline hasty dropped the wash cloth and turned to face her father. Bill smiled knowingly, but he spared his daughter, his teasing wouldn't get him any breakfast. He set the box of materials and another basin of water on between her and Stefan. "Should I stay?"

"And watch me sow his skin? You should get started with feeding the animals, daddy. I'll make breakfast when I'm done."

"Oh my daughter, you'd still be able to eat after that? You inherited your mother's features, but you have the stomach of a man." Bill said as he walked out of the barn.

Caroline spread the tools adjacent to her. She inspected the small, but deep hole on his upper body. The sun shone its rays of light over the barn, forming sweat on her the bridge of her nose and forehead. Caroline worked diligently to sow the gash on his skin. Drops of blood trickled down his abdominal as she continued to close the gap. Caroline would pause time to time when her patient would stir under her operation. Nursing someone required an endless amount of patience, a trait that was never unlike her.

She didn't understand why she willing took care of him, she admitted the wonder and fascination she immediately felt for him, but she could comprehend on _why_. She reasoned it was because Stefan's a soldier, and Tyler's a soldier. In shades of grey, she felt the need to take care of him because there's a slight possibility that theTyler maybe in the same situation, and she'd want someone to care for him as well. That's the only reason she could justify. She felt an odd scene of comfort and satisfaction with his presence. She felt enough, contentment filled her. She hasn't filled these emotions ever wash through her, they were foreign.

She didn't know him, but was it wrong to be attracted to a man? Southern planters to hell, the only boys she's ever known was Tyler and Matt, it's acceptable to be fascinated by another man. Attraction, that's all she allowed herself to admit.

Caroline walked out of the barn but quickly returned. Her urge to watch over him won the best of her. Instead of sitting beside him the entire time, she decided to organize the washed up stables and rusty equipment by their two horses.

"Noah, come here, Noah." Caroline snapped her fingers to get the horse's attention. "Miss me?" She grinned as the Noah neighed and waggled his tail. "Shhh, we have a visitor. He's going to be staying with us." The large house wailed in excitement, eager to meet its guest. "Fine, you can meet him when he wakes up. I'm sorry, I haven't been taking care of you since Tyler left. He was only one that would help me wash you. Well, he washed you." Caroline slowly brushed its hair with her fingers; Noah galloped forward seeking its owner touch.

"Quiet!" Caroline scowled the horse. When it leaped forward, it hit the stables causing a loud bang on the wood.

Stefan groaned loudly, feeling the burn on his wound as he shifted slightly. Caroline rushed towards him in an instant. She sat adjacent to him unsure of what to do. Stefan's back faced hers as he struggled to sit up.

Caroline reminded unmoving, silent. She was just simply watching him.

Stefan slumped back down on the hay; his body was unable to cooperate with him. He was fragile, he was weak, he belittled himself, he felt like nothing—complete utter waste. He remained unconscious of the presence beside him as he focused on the pain. Stefan allowed his mind to recall last night's events. His comrades marched from Richmond to Seneca. The Confederacy has won the past seven battles including last nights. His commander, General Sherman was merciless, he showed no attachment to his men, no remorse to the soldiers they've lost. He missed being under Lee's command, whom he believed was getting weary with the countless deaths and spoils of war. _Murder or be murdered, survival of the fittest—be submissive._The role of a soldier is to follow commands because it's in the "benefit" of their country_. But what country?_ He mused. The union has been divided into two. Men in the Revolutionary war fought and died for their freedom and they were foolishly tearing the country apart. He's grown cold, influenced by General Sherman, he's been desensitized by the war that he can no longer show any compassion. He reasons that if he feels, he'll remember all the cries, the begging, the blood, and his guilt. Stefan numbed himself, he decapitated his heart, he's no longer the boy he used to be.

A lone tear drop escaped from his closed eyes. Caroline felt her heart twist and wrench. She didn't know this man, but she wanted to help him, heal him. Her hands voluntarily reached his face and her slender fingers brushed the descending tear.

She watched as his eye brows furrowed, showing the fine lines the war caused on his forehead. The lid of his eyes slowly opened revealing his eyes.

Her cerulean eyes welcomed his warm honey green orbs.


	2. Act One

**Hi! Thank you for all the Story Alerts and the Favorites. It really means a lot. I'd really appreciate it if you guys reviewed though! I want to get some feedback. I wanna know what you guys think. It encourages me to keep writing.**

**PS. The dialogue—it maybe a bit off, (I'm actually insecure about it) since this story takes place in the 1860's. Not very modern. So basically, I tried to keep some of the 1860's language style + contemporary.**

"_**This is not a love story. It's a story about love."**_

"Hello."

"Hello."

A pregnant elephant filled the room. The duo refused to say another word. The silence was born due to expectations and hesitations.

Stefan drank in her features, a mysterious blond woman sat beside him with eager blue eyes. Her porcelain skin complimented the growing shade of pink on her cheeks. Stefan allowed himself to believe it was his doing. His lips pulled into a small half smile, cancelling out the frown her wore earlier.

Heis smile grew as he saw that she reacted to the simple gesture. Caroline's eyes dilated, showing her shock, but returned his smile with her own cheeky grin. They were smiling at each other, as if they shared a secret…

Caroline's smile grew into a fit of giggles. It amused her how this stranger and his half naked glory stayed completely silent and did nothing but smile at her.

Stefan joined her laughter, not really knowing what they were laughing about. But he felt good, relieved—as if the war never happened, as if he has never killed another man,-he felt at peace. He was laughing! Stefan "Broody" Salvatore—dubbed by Damon—was laughing, out loud.

But his laughter soon died and he hissed at the pain under his chest. Caroline immediately came to his assistance, changing his form into a sitting position. She was close to him; her entire body merely inches from his. Her hair danced with the wind, bright yellow strands dancing along the wind. She didn't smell like lavenders or daisies. Her scent was like the musky wood mixed with herbal spices, contracting her fragile and feminine appearance.

Caroline tore herself from him. They returned to their earlier position, both strarring at each other—observing the unfamiliar face.

"I'm Caroline, Caroline Forbes." She began , believing it would be best if she gave him a recap on today's earlier events. "My father found you in the woods while he was hunting."

"I must thank him. He didn't think I was a deer did he?" Stefan tried to make a joke out of his situation, he gestured at the wound below his rib. He noted that the along his abdomen blood has been cleaned off, though the nature dye of blood remained tattooed on his skin.

"Not the shooting or the sowing." Caroline smiled as she recalled her father once sowing a dress for her when she was younger. He failed miserably. "He's terrible at both. I patched you up."

"Thank you, Miss Forbes." Stefan smiled politely, showing his gratitude.

"So, you're a soldier?" She asked, more like stated. "How's the war?"

"For the soldiers or the army?" Stefan asked in a monotone voice. There was no trace of bitterness or resentment. It was void, detached.

"Frankly, I don't care about the war. I just want the men to come home. War is senseless and ridiculous." Caroline raised her head up, high and might. She held her shoulders back and her hands formed an angle by her hips.

Stefan bit his lip to hide his smile. Of course, women opposed the war; they had a huge possibility of losing family, a loved one—a lover. "Are you waiting for someone?"

"Pardon?" She was chocked at his personal question. She refused her urge to tell him about her pity almost love story. "No… What would make you say such thing?" She felt her cheeks burn, the reosey hue crawled over the apples of her cheeks, but she maintained her poised pose, refusing to be fazed by his question.

"You have that look."

"Are you saying that I'm an open book?" She scoffed.

"No, you're just easy to read."

"I have you know, Mr. Salvatore, do not make assumptions about—"

The barn's wooden door creaked open, revealing Bill with a blanket. He swatted next to Caroline and extended his hand towards to Stefan. "Bill Forbes, you've meet my lovely daughter Caroline."

"Salvatore, Stefan Salvatore." He extended his hand to meet Bill's. He used all the energy he could muster to shake the man's hand firmly. Damon told him once that a firm handshake will automatically get you respect.

"Please to meet you. Caroline, darling, will you start preparing breakfast now? I'm starving, I'm sure Mr. Salvatore is too."

Caroline sighed and walked towards the entrance of the barn. "It's brunch now, daddy. What shall I make?"

"Anything that you can make fast, sweetheart." He smiled at his daughter, signaling her to leave with his hand.

Bill turned to Stefan, shaking his head in amusement. His daughter is an eccentric woman, confident, brave, and full of light—the apple of his eye. "Was she mean to you?" Bill teased; he overheard their conversation before he interrupted. He knew his daughter, and from first hand experiences, she advocated her beliefs, she was never afraid to argue with a man—something never unlikely in their time.

"She was fierce, but just as you said, lovely." Stefan smiled as he watched her shadow disappear. He wished to keep the conversation with Mr. Forbes light, but he had an inkling the man would interrogate him.

"My little girl. So, Mr. Salvatore, would you like to tell me about yourself? Or shall we skip the formalities, so I can lead you to the guest room?"

"You trust me enough to let me into your home?"

"You haven't give me a reason not to and Caroline seemed very comfortable with you." A ghost smile flshed on his face as he recalled witnessing their exchange earlier. Bill carefully pulled Stefan up and leaned him against his old, rusting body. "We'll get to know each other as you get better." Bill promised. He was actually eager to finally have someone to talk to about the farming, politics—man stuff—that his daughter was allergic to. "C'mon, lad!"

"Where's Stefan?" Caroline casually asked as she set up the table.

"In the guest room."

"You mean in Tyler's room?" Caroline exclaimed, surprised by her father's decision.

"Did you expect me to leave him in the barn? That is not how I raised you Caroline." Bill tried to reprimand his daughter but the latter just shrugged and turned away.

"It was pointless for me to set up lunch if he's not coming down."

"He's most likely asleep. He needs to recuperate. Will you bring him food after we eat?"

"Of course, daddy. But you'll be cleaning the kitchen right?" She eyed him innocently, adding an effect with the twitching of her eye brows.

"Yes, while you go read literature I recommended." Bill teased. He wanted his daughter to be more than average. He wanted her to be politically aware and capable of intellectual conversations, unlike most women in England.

"I wanted to paint!" Caroline pouted. Her father encouraged her to be literate and educated. He raised a 'knowledgeable man' out of her porcelain figure. She was thankful ; most women of her age were discouraged to participate in such affairs. They stood spineless behind their husbands. Caroline scoffed at this. Women were treated like property—to be wed with a man their parents have chosen to lift financial burdens or to continue the line of aristocracy. She was grateful her father believed otherwise. His philosophy: Independent Caroline is a happy Caroline. She would inherit the farm someday, and if—when Tyler returns, they'd rule the land together…

"Go, on, bring Mr. Salvatore his food." Bill stood and plated roasted ham, a variety of vegetables and a few slices of bread on a makeshift tray. "I'll clean up!" Caroline took the tray from Bill's arms and obediently walked towards Stefan's—Tyler's room. She sighed. She felt uncomfortable, yet at ease with his presence. It was contradicting, an oxymoron; fire and ice, a push and pull. It would be heaven or hell. Uncomfortable because he stirred odd, unresolved feelings in the pit of her stomach, tugging—pulling, making her unleash a foreign emotion. Yearning. Then she felt satisfaction and she welcomed it.

"No, Caroline Elizabeth Forbes, he's just a man. He's just a man." She scolded herself for being uncomposed and absurd. She just met him for the sake of the nation! She was acting like a catty woman from the tavern. "A handsome man."

Caroline reached the end of the hall and faced the auburn- oak door. She took a deep breathe and softly knocked on the door.

"Yes?" She heard him croak. Yes, her father was right, he was asleep.

"It's Caroline. My father send food." She twisted the door knob and entered. She spared him a quick glance, noting he looked slightly better, then setting down the plate of food on the desk adjacent to the bed. Stefan met her eyes and rewarded her with a small smile. He was pleased to see her or at least in this case—blaming the bruise on his left eye—smell her. Her scent was intoxicating, it filled the room and teased his nostrils. Her earlier scent was now mixed with oregano and parsley. She smelled scrumptious, he bet the food she made was just as delicious. "Are you hungry?"

"Somewhat. I don't have much of an appetite." Stefan slummed his shoulders and leaned against the headboard.

"You should eat." Caroline said firmly, her motherly instincts taking over.

"Of course, Miss Forbes." Stefan playfully agreed, a hint of sarcasm falling from his lips.

Caroline nodded and began to take her leave, but his voice stopped her. "Miss Fobres?" She turned her head in a heart beat and searched his eyes. "Will you stay with me?" He said shyly. "I don't want to be alone."

"Well, I could bring my dog over. He hasn't fed yet." She said teasingly, brushing him off. "Yes, I shall bring him over." She said thoughtfully and began to head towards the door.

"I want someone to talk to. Your dog and I won't understand each other." He argued.

"I thought the same species would be able to communicate." Caroline bit her tongue. Sarcasm was her language; she turned and looked at Stefan apologetically. "I suppose you can entertain me with your war stories." She pulled the wicker chair her father furnished and sat by his side.

"It's not very pleasing." The teasing mood vanished.

"We don't have to talk about it." Caroline shook her head, understandingly. War was a forbidden subject to Stefan. He lost too much, _he_ lost himself in the war. The golden boy, the boy that dreamed was buried in the woods laying with the rest of the men that died.

Truly, she was curious—but she was glad he didn't tell her. She wouldn't be able to bare hearing about death and the cruelty of war.

"Oh, I have a wonderful idea! I'll read you a book!" Caroline clapped her hands excitedly. "I'll go and get it."

Stefan nodded while a small smile played on his lips. He was grateful she respected his boundaries. Caroline was spontaneous, adventurous, enthusiastic—everything he was not—everything he is not anymore.

"Tada!" She flashed him a book. The cover was soft brown; the width only a few centimeters thin. It was entitled _Romeo and Juliet._

Stefan raised his eyebrows. "The famous tale about forbidden love?"

Caroline adjusted herself on the wicker for a comfortable position. "It is a classic! And it happens to be one of my favorites!" She glared pointedly when she heard him scoff. "Yes, it is a love story where 'children' fall in love and happen to die in the end. But firstly, love should not be defined with age—leading to two, in this time period, people married and had relationships in a young age, Juliet possibly could have married an older man. Therefore, thirdly, the age and their age differences and justified. Fourthly, I will not deny the fact that the plot is cliché, but it's Shakespeare's_ words_! His simple words form a connection to a person, demanding emotion, he demands his readers to feel what his characters are feeling! And finally, as I mentioned, it's a classic and a personal favorite!"

Stefan's lips curled up into a smile at her small rant. "Well, being with Act One."

Before she opened her book, she stood up abruptly and set the plate of food on his lap. "Eat. It's much more enjoyable to eat with company. Daddy and I always eat together. I'd wait for him until the darkest hour just to dine together. I hate eating alone, until now, I get teary-eyed when daddy leaves for town and I'm left to eat by myself." She rambled, sharing her personal experiences. Her life flashed before her eyes, memories dancing before her. She became lost in the pictures of her father, little Caroline, and her mother… Her heart clenched as she recalled the days her mother had. They'd prepare dinner together, she remembered setting three sets of plates for months even after her mother died. She wouldn't eat unless they were all together—as a whole, having dinner.

"Miss Forbes?" Stefan watched as a series of emotions flashed through her features. Anger, sorrow, regret. But he noted the minuscule curl of her lips. Bravery was her greatest asset. She was battle her inner turmoil.

"I just hate eating alone." She said quietly. A smile appeared on her lips to reassure him, but her eyes confirmed her lies. She remembered a broken memory. Stefan was disappointed that she only allowed him to see a façade—keeping him arms length. He had the urge to help her, to hold her. However, he remained paralyzed as Caroline recomposed herself.

"I'm thankful you're here so I don't have to eat alone." His eyes held her captive. Her eyes searched his; she knew it was much more than that. The simple statement warmed her heart.

"My pleasure." Caroline's good natured smile returned.

Stefan returned her smile as he took the first bite of his meal.

Caroline began. "Two households, both alike in dignity/In fair Verona where we lay our scene…"

**-end-**

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